


Novia

by TenebrarumDomini



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Doppelganger, Episode: s02e08 Rose, F/M, Full Moon, Hunter's Curse (Vampire Diaries), Hybrids, Magic, Pregnant Hayley Marshall, Psychic, The Five, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, expression, the curse of the sun and the moon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29941779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenebrarumDomini/pseuds/TenebrarumDomini
Summary: Ripping her way through time and space for her best friend, Novia knew her journey to prevent the end of the vampire race wouldn't be smooth, but being dragged into an elaborate scheme to kill Niklaus wasn't exactly what she had in mind. With Elena just dying to play martyr and the Salvatore brothers tripping over themselves to save her, Novia wondered how anyone survived in Mystic Falls. Now the Originals are flocking, werewolves aren't as extinct as many would think, and it turns out, Klaus hadn't chucked Kol into the Pacific.Murder, mayhem and just a little bit of mischief.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson, Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore, Elena Gilbert/Stefan Salvatore, Hayley Marshall/Elijah Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson/Original Female Character(s), Marcel Gerard/Rebekah Mikaelson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Ambition

_**We were shut like a jacket  
So do your zip  
We would roll down the rapids  
** **To find a wave that fits  
Can you feel where the wind is?  
Can you feel it through  
All of the windows  
Inside this room?** _

\- Dusk Till Dawn (ZAYN)

**_Spain_ **   
**_1702_ **

Blood dripped slowly from her mouth, over her stained lips and enticingly down her collarbone as the young man struggled below her, his screams muffled against her hand. She smiled against his neck, pulling back and admiring the two neat puncture holes where delicious drops of crimson welled before disappearing as she wiped them away with her thumb and savoured the sweetness of his blood. She slowly ran her tongue over her sharpened teeth, letting the veins under her eyes disappear and straightening to look her terrified desert in the eyes. She smiled nicely at him, placing her delicately gloved hands on his shoulders and staring deep into his wide green orbs before murmuring, "You will not remember I was here. You went to get drinks and got distracted by a pretty young lady who never looked twice at you."

Her evening meal blinked, brows drawing together as he looked at her, a longing look in his eyes. She smiled again, too sweet, too _innocent_. "Thank you darling, for the snack. I am afraid my travels make me rather ravenous. Rest assured, you are _delicious_ , love."

She glanced at her white glove and frowned at the stain of red on the index finger. Well, at least her dress remained impeccable. It would be _so_ _much_ _work_ to have to compel the entire town to give her the blind eye, not to mention rather counterproductive. Why mind control a settlement to forget you when as soon as you leave their sight, they don't remember your existence?

Such was the curse of Novia Coden.

It worked in her favour sometimes, like when she was tracking down a Marked One, but to live a life where she did not exist outside eye contact, it was a terrible burden. She remembered when she was a little girl, eyes bright and brimming with life, full of dreams and hopes for the future. She loved the witches of her village, the women with kind smiles and mystical powers. The women with strange herbs that worked miracles and odd words that made flowers grow and wind twist. She used to think she was like them, destined to serve nature's will and do anything in the name of her ancestors.

But she _wasn't_ like them.

It was a long time ago that she realised she was different. The witches described their magic as an extension of the soil beneath their feet and the fires warming their woods. Novia had frowned naively and wondered why she felt like the fire and the earth and the wind and the water _were_ her instead of an _extension_ of her. All she had to do was place her childishly smooth palms on the ground and an orange glow would bathe her wrists before she felt _power_.

The witches began to whisper, growing increasingly agitated as rumour of a small girl with strange abilities crossed the seas. Her mother still braided her hair and kissed her goodnight, but her father grew quieter before one day, he asked her if she wished to learn how to hunt. Novia had smiled widely, her blue eyes shining, and as she grew older, she only grew in skill, until on her eighteenth summer, her father gave her an _arc et carquois_ of her very own. Still, women were not meant to be traipsing through the wilderness with dirt on their skin and twigs in their hair; women were to be seen and not heard, all but housewives and broodmares for the men to take as they saw fit. It was not becoming for a young lady such as herself to be witnessed dressing up in her father's tunic and tackling the boys in a roughhouse game when she should of been at home learning how to cook with mother. Father only ruffled her hair and grinned gently at her, fondly referring to her as his 'little witch' and telling her that she could do _anything_ she wanted if only she fought hard enough. So she did. She continued to go hunting throughout the woods, weaving violet flowers into her hair just to appease her mother all the while standing behind a tree, arrow nocked and arms strong. Everything was fine-

Until the beasts came.

They tore through their village, ripping her family and friends to shreds before her eyes, all the while watching her with cruel amber stares that could cut the most precious jewels. The witches, the only survivors of the attack, banded together and no longer did it matter that Novia was different. They united under a common enemy and the witches brewed a plan that would condemn her to an eternity of solitude with only her beloved bow as company.

A tug pulled her from the depths of her mind and Novia straightened, her head tilting to the side, a small grin curled her blood-stained lips as she felt the mental stirring of an old friend. She heard, with her sensitive hearing, that a young couple were heading her way, probably bored of the droll party the governor had thrown and seeking privacy in the courtyard. Novia would of stayed and taken a bite from their surely tasty carotid arteries but when her dearest companion prodded at their psychic link, she knew the time for pleasure was over. Glancing backwards mournfully, Novia straightened her hair pins, ran a hand through her hair, lips curling into a smile as the light caught on the ocean-blue stone, and with only a rustle of the wind, she was gone.

As it turned out, not a minute later, a young man with a mischievously handsome face and an affliction just like Novia's appeared, a woman with dark ringlets and hazy eyes stumbling behind him. They laughed until the man's fangs were buried in her neck and her giddy amusement turned to abrupt terror.

The echoing sound of a body hitting the floor sealed her fate as the man's face twisted back to human. His look of horror lingered in his eyes, even as all emotion wiped from his face.

Like a switch had been flipped.

_**France** _   
_**1799** _

Sipping on a glass of red wine, Novia withheld her sigh. She pursed her cherry lips, absently admiring the stunning view of her home city. France had come a long way since her little village surrounded by the Forrest. It was now a country of fine wines and attractive sights, the home of an exotic language and men with rare talents.

Her eyes flickered to the stone in her hand, the reflective blue surface glinting with a strange light that no human would ever be able to explain. Trapped within the stone were souls; souls of witches and werewolves and vampires that had committed atrocious deeds and the stone in her hand had been able to sense that. Her and the stone were old friends. After all, she enchanted it herself and a bond like that? Unbreakable. It went into a crevice in her bow and then- _voila_ \- the legendary weapon of _La Dame de L'ombre._ Or as those charming English folk said, ' _The Lady of the Shadows'._

Her legend began way back in 1021 AD when the witches decided they needed to stand against the beasts that destroyed their lives. By then, whispers had crossed the lands of a family of savage beasts that paraded as men, feasting on the blood of innocents and leaving a bloody trail of bodies behind. The witches grew desperate for vengeance, prepared t9 do anything to avenge their fallen. She became the only one of her kind: a hybrid of witch and vampire, something that all laws of nature declared should not of been possible. The witches left one last destiny for her and to this day, Novia was still working for it. You see, she spelled the purest stone on the planet and in her rush for revenge, she became The Huntress that supernatural villains everywhere began to fear. Her name was used to scare poor children into eating their greens and legends began spreading from ear to ear about a woman that slaughtered any creature that deserved anguish for eternity.

But that was the thing, Novia couldn't send a soul that still had humanity into her stone because only the cruellest of bastards were sentenced to a forever of suffering. Her stone could sense the demons, and it was her duty to track them down and serve justice.

Novia pursed her lips, eyes flickering to her father's pocket watch that she'd found in the ruins of her village all those centuries ago. The witch should of been there half an hour ago.

Claire witches were nasty little harpies, always butting in with their pathetic attempts at threats and acting like they were Qetsiyah's gift to mortals. Last time she dealt with one, she ended up ripping out the girl's guts out in sheer boredom. It was rather ironic really; the little harlot had stood in front of her and mustered up the courage to threaten her, Novia Coden - _The_ Huntress. Unfortunately, the Claire witch's sister didn't find it as funny as she did. The infuriating bitch cursed her with the horrible fate of everyone she met forgetting her as soon as she left their sight. Still, it was a necessary evil, Novia meeting with the new Claire witch. She was currently tracking a werewolf that had slaughtered his own pack and her stone had identified as soulless. Now, Novia could of done a simple _sort de localisation_ but her magic had grown too powerful to do such trivial spells. She could've found Mr Sanson Arrinet in a _second_ and- what fun was the hunt if the prey was so easily found?

An unwillingly informant had nervously told her that Édith Claire knew of Arrinet's location before Novia ate him for lunch. She usually snacked on more supernatural beings - witch blood was so sugary. Werewolves, on the other hand? _Délectable_ \- but she did admit tasting human blood straight from the vein did have a lovely simplicity to it.

She closed her eyes against the warm rays of sun filtering through the windows, lips pulling upwards slightly as she thought of the daylight ring, necklace and bracelet sitting on their separate limbs on her body. Charmed them herself to confuse those that wished to torture her with the sun. Perks of being witch and vampire.

She thought of the other ring on her finger; the smooth opal that she still didn't know why she kept. Her slight smile soured and she opened her eyes, good mood ruined. Her eyes strayed to the delicate gold metal with the phases of the moon etched lovingly into the lid. The little clock hands ticked and her delicate face twisted into a scowl. If that cowardly little wench showed at all, Novia would feed her her own eyeballs and _tell_ _her_ _to_ _get_ _her_ _eyes checked so she_ _could_ _actually see a clock_ -

The bell on the door tinkered and instantly, her heightened supernatural senses peaked. There was a heartbeat, just slightly faster than usual - _nerveux_ , how curious - and the smell of herbs and the sort of sharpness only salt garnered. Ah; the witch.

Flattening her predatory smile, Novia straightened, slowly stretching out her gloved hands and connecting psychically with her enchanted stone. She would need it, she knew.

Her red lips - painted with the blood of her _ennemis_ \- curled into a welcoming smile, about as sly as a wicked fox. Édith's expression faltered, falling into uncertain anxiety, before it seemed an unknowing force gripped her and she straightened, features firming. Novia his her grin with her wine glass, giddy glee welling inside her. She loved the Claire witches like she hated them, with their pouty lips and bullshit speeches of rebellion when they knew - ah, what was the expression? Oh yes - Jack shit. She'd siphoned so much magic from those witches it was honestly surprising the covens weren't screaming for her head to be hoisted upon a pike. Not that it would stay there for long, though. Immortality was both a curse and gift, although Novia was still in arms over which it truly was.

"Édith, I presume?" Novia asked, her rolling French accent tweaking her words.

The Claire witch cleared her throat with a wobbly smile and took the seat available; the pulse in her neck jumping erratically. Novia couldn't tell of it was of fear or arousal. She was as terrifying as she was beautiful. Many a man had stumbled over themselves for her hand, but she had denied them all. 

Mood becoming foul once more, Novia let her hand rest on Édith's arm and withheld her slightly unhinged grin when a barely noticeable blue light flared where their skin connected. Good Lord, the Claires became weaker every generation. As she lightly took the witch's power for her own, Novia looked her straight in the eye and pushed her own magic through, her naturally blue eyes bleeding a crystal green as her teeth sharpened in her mouth.

Édith let out a muffled shriek, eyes widening in panic before Novia soothed her with a calming pulse of silver magic.

A breeze rippled through the café.

"Now," Novia said alluringly, in no mood for games. "Tell me, love, where I can find Sanson Arrinet or I feed you your own intestines."

With a pale face and a rapidly hammering pulse, Édith Claire spoke.

**_Virginia - Mystic Falls  
_ ** **_1864_ **

Nocking a blue feathered arrow, Novia's sharp eyes narrowed onto her target, her vampire hearing accelerating with the help of a sliver of her magic until she could hear the conversation below her.

"- two found dead, Katherine! The Council are evidently growing smarter-"

A scathing scoff cut off the woman that was speaking.

"The Council would not be able to identify a vampire even if it choked on vervain right in front of them! You've heard the stories, Pearl. It's _her_."

The woman, Pearl, hissed incredulity, "'Her'?! _Please_ , Katherine, don't tell me you believe those weakly fabled _stories_?! The Huntress is a fairytale made up by petty men that live only to frighten others-"

"The Huntress is very _real_ , Pearl," Katerina Petrova, her favourite target, replied lowly, voice only a few pitches higher than a whisper. "She marks her victims with ink and let's them flee only so she can _hunt them down_ _again_. A sadistic game she never tires of playing. She is close, I know, perhaps living under our very _noses_."

Nokia's lips curled into a sinful grin as she let her senses dull back to just above human.

She Marked her targets with her touch, perhaps a light, flirty tap on the arm where silver and blue spirals would grow and curl over the limb it infected. It served as a mental link so she would always know where they were and also so she would always have entertainment if held in captivity- which had happened before. Too many times to count, really.

Thing was, she Marked Katerina back in the 1600's, just a century after the girl turned. She was still on the run from Niklaus at the time when Novia bumped into her at a tavern. When Katerina next looked in the mirror, she had a cloud of silver and blue on her shoulder with no recollection of how it got there. She soon learned the rumours of _la dame de l'ombre_ and then not only was she running from the Original werewolf-vampire Hybrid, but also from the fabled Huntress that was said to be older than time itself. Of course, Novia was both flattered and insulted that the supernatural communities thought her that old. Truth was, she was only a year younger than the Originals. Practically an Original herself really; able to compel other vamps, ten times the strength of even a really old immortal and the only active Hybrid in existence. Too bad Esther bound Niklaus' werewolf side - Novia would of liked to ask what it was like to be the opposite but the same.

The wind blew lightly against her hair, as sleek and black as ever, so she pulled back her arm, the wickedly glinting stone of souls catching the light as the arrow released as if in slow motion. It whittled straight to the two women, pinning the older lady, Pearl, to the farmhouse behind.

Novia straightened, smirked with her sly lips at the startled shrieks, and slung her quiver full of arrows over her back. She lingered just long enough to see Katerina pale drastically in fright before disappearing, leaving only dewy morning grass to bathe in the sun.

Novia didn't quite like silly women daring to say she didn't exist. It served as a warning to Katerina too.

 _You're_ _n_ _ot_ _free._ _I_ _'m_ _coming, darling._  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_Chicago_ **   
**_1920_ **

With beads in her hair and a tight white dress making her sunned skin glow under the artificial lights, Novia laughed as Rebekah twirled her around again, ignoring the greedy male eyes that tracked their every moment. The '20's were an everlasting decade of upbeat music and eternal parties for Novia, even if she could still keenly sense her Stone of Aphrodite - ironic, wasn't it? A Lebonair werewolf that she made friends with named it when they got hammered one night - scouring for victims. Though she'd spied Niklaus watching them both, the stone had no interest in trapping the Original. Quite the opposite really; it wished for Novia to _help_ him.

She missed Kol.

He would of already of offered her a drink... from some poor girl's neck but hey, food was food.

Novia had already met the Mikaelson's but her favourite was her best friend, Kol.

But of course, they didn't remember because of her curse. Which was a shame. She and Nik bonded over art in '45 before the stone perked up and she had a renegade witch to hunt.

Her eyes searched the crowd of dancing men and women before she found Niklaus and a man she only just recognised. Good _Lord_ \- Stefan Salvatore? Last time she saw him, he was tripping over himself to aid Katerina in whatever task she had for him. He looked different. Cold. Confident. Careless.

The three C's of an emotionless vampire.

Novia's eyebrows quirked but she was spun again by Rebekah just as the song ended, preventing her from getting a good look. The pearls around her neck spun with her, as did the pleats of her dress, drawing nearly every male in the room. She withheld her smirk. Her stone - bonded so deeply to her, it was practically sentiment by now - was nearly buzzing in anticipation. It only sensed the worst of the worst and a Ripper soul apparently tasted wonderful. The last she caught was back in the 1740's; her stone was as satisfied as a cat for months after. Novia debated whether to let her magic pull it and slide it into her dagger - a Happy-thousandth-Birthday present from an old friend - but she'd observed the younger Salvatore back in '64. Becoming a vampire only amplified traits, so when the fool finally found his humanity again, he'd be _crippled_ with guilt.

Better let him suffer then.

"Do you wish to share a drink with my brother and I, Nia?"

Novia felt her lips upturn at the nickname, even as the dark veins under her eyes surfaced for a second at the thought of a meal. Of course, it wouldn't be the eutrophic ecstasy of witches blood, nor the smoky taste of wolf, but it would do to sate her hunger.

Eyes darkening and red lips- _red as_ _blood_ \- deepening into a positively predatory smile, Novia ran her tongue over her sharp teeth.

"I'm offended you even have to ask, love."

Rebekah gave her a wicked smirk of her own, even as her cheeks tinged pink. The way Novia said it, the way her tongue caressed every word that dripped from her lips, made delectable shivers run down spines. Her unique accent from adapting to so many languages only added to the alluring lilt of her voice.

They danced their way through the crowd, perhaps touching a bit more than socially acceptable, a fact that Novia acknowledged with another smile, but she didn't mind. It had been years since she gave out her heart, but even she didn't mind physical affection once in a decade. Men and women. Why limit yourself to one gender when you can have the best of both worlds?

They made their way to Stefan and Nik, sliding into the booth - Novia pretending she didn't see the way the Ripper's empty eyes darkened in lust as he saw the two of them - as another man - human - perspired nervously across from them.

"Klaus Mikaelson, I presume? Lovely to meet Rebekah's favourite brother."

Rebekah laughed as Nik's lips twitched in fond amusement.

 _Always and forever,_ _indeed_.

"I'm sorry, love, but I think Finn's still _sleeping_."

Novia grinned even as Rebekah covered her cackle with a cough. She turned to Stefan, her eyes shining in the light, even as her lips curled dangerously.

"It's nice to see you again, Mr Salvatore. Last time I saw you, you were ripping your way through Monterey."

Something in his eyes flickered, like a light fighting to escape darkness. Ah, _guilt_. She could practically smell it in the air. Yes, she would leave the baby vampire to loathe himself; that would be his punishment. Letting time be his judge, jury and executioner.

"Ah! You've heard of Mr Salvatore's little escapades then? I always could appreciate artwork when I saw a masterpiece."

Novia's smile turned sly.

"Enough, Nik! I promised Nia dinner, did I not?"

The two shared a grin even as Novia gently snagged the wrist of a passing woman and pulled her into their booth. She spared a glance to the other human in their company and saw the way his eyes darted around the room but his body remained still. Compelled then.

Novia turned back to the woman she caught and looked deep into her confused eyes.

"Don't make a sound, this won't hurt. You're going to let my friend and I take a bite out of your pretty little neck. Alright, darling?"

"I'm going to let you and your friend take a bite out of my neck." She echoed dazedly.

Novia dragged her gaze to Rebekah and pulled the woman's hair back.

"After you, love?"

She grinned, fangs flashing, veins crawling, and sank her teeth into the neck. Novia spared hardly a look at Nik and Stefan as her own face twisted to inhuman and she took the other side of the woman's neck.

And-

And-

Well, it wasn't witches blood.

Nevertheless, it was still delicious.

It exploded on her tongue, a thousand stars crashing against the earths surface, a million fireworks blowing into every colour imaginable against the velvet night sky, a hundred symbols violently colliding into a ringing beat that influenced the sweet tune of her heart.

She pulled back as she heard the heartbeat slowing, running her tongue along the wound and infusing it with the slightest sliver of her magic, the skin knitting back together seamlessly. Rebekah retreated too, blood welling enticingly on her stained bottom lip. Novia had never seen anything so tempting. Well, apart from that one time she and Kol heard whispers of a coven plotting against the Mikaelsons and went to... eliminate the threat. Kol had looked up from a dead witch's neck, blood dripping from his swollen bottom lip and down the glistening skin on his neck, and smiled mischievously, dark eyes roaming over her stained lips and crawling veins. He said he'd never seen anything so delicious.

She met Rebekah in the middle, lips meeting in a surprisingly soft clash. Novia's tongue flickered out, stealing the welling drop of crimson for her own and swallowing Rebekah's moan as it vibrated against her lips. Her hand found itself to her hair, fingers gripping the blonde strands as Rebekah's wound into hers. It wasn't chaste, far from it, but Novia would've known even if it was only the slightest brush of the lips, that Rebekah easily loved: a hopeless romantic. The way her touch was tender, even though the kiss was wild, spoke louder than words ever could. Rebekah Mikaelson had a heart that she gave out too hastily, even to women like her. Women that hid their cruelty behind innocent eyes and sweet smiles. Predators that bore the mask of prey.

Novia wasn't just a normal vampire, not like Stefan or even _Katerina_ , who acted way above her station. She found that she could compel other vampires when she was desperately fleeing from the witches of her village and spoke too forcefully to a man she found feasting upon a noble woman. And her _magic_... Where did she begin? She could take it from the elements, from the rippling breeze and the damp soil beneath her feet. Once every century, her magic hit it's compacity and she had to drain herself so she didn't explode, lest she take an entire population with her. She found a witch in the eleventh century who taught her how to store her magic in an object, and since then, she'd store ten decades worth of power into a meaningful trinket and hide it where no other soul could find it.

Novia didn't deserve someone as kind as Rebekah, who could fall in love with her in a week and forget about her the next. She merited a kind man or woman that would take care of her and not think of hunting supernatural creatures as a hobby.

Her eyelashes brushed against Rebekah's cheeks as their lips moved in symphony.

A throat clearing had them separating reluctantly.

Rebekah flushed lightly upon realising that both Nik _and_ Stefan were watching with very different reactions but Novia only quirked a brow and let her natural smirk settle.

Nik grinned, clearly amused, even as he took a sip of whatever alcoholic beverage he'd stole from a passing waiter. Stefan looked like all his fantasies had come to pass, if his fractionally wider eyes were indication.

"Who's our guest, love?" Novia asked, nodding towards the man that was stiffer than a wooden board.

"Liam Grant. Idiot. Pompous twat. Dickhead," Stefan introduced, his Ripper smirk back on his face, even though his gaze lingered on her and Rebekah's glistening lips.

"Mm. And is he dessert or a soon-to-be headless corpse?"

Nik and Stefan shared a look.

"Well, Liam here threatened to call the Police and I don't take well to threats, sweetheart. He kindly volunteered himself as supper to Stefan here. Isn't that-"

But whatever Nik was about to say was interrupted by the sharp yell of, "Chicago Police! Get down!"

Suddenly Rebekah was shoving them both down as wooden bullets slammed into the seats behind them, Nik's expression went flat as Stefan grew panicked. Novia's face hardened, a far cry from the carefree woman she was just minutes ago. She felt the dagger nick her left thigh and the blue glow from the stone glow faintly through the light material of her dress. Her eyes went cold She was no longer the lady with the sweet lips and flirtatious eyes. A warrior took her place.

A single whisper escaped Rebekah's lips, a name that had Novia's stone singing with a cruel promise.

" _Mikael_."

He was the only malevolent soul she'd happened across that it abhorred instantly.

She knew in her gut though, that tonight was not the night she would catch him.

She spared one last despairing look at Rebekah - who was frowning in confusion, getting the feeling she was missing something important - before she was out of there and on the quiet cobbled streets, using her magic to accelerate her already heightened speed. She spared only a single mournful thought for Stefan, Nik and Rebekah who had all forgotten her before she placed her palms flat on the pavement and siphoned enough magic to equal a powerful witch on her best day.

It was a lonely life she lead.

**_New York_ **   
**_1988_ **

Novia hit the ground running.

Glass shattered beneath her feet, the thick soles of her combat boots saving her from jarring her knees. She shook her dyed brown hair, barely sparing a glance for the small shards of glass that tumbled to the floor like snow. The flirty smiles and sly looks were shoved aside in favour of the dangerous lilt to her cold eyes and sharp scowl that had a vein under her eyelashes darkening. She'd just raided a small coven of witches that were practicing _Expression_ of all things and conspiring to bring _Silas_ back. Novia dreaded to think of hell on earth if Silas rose again.

It turns out, in reward for her public service of locking those crazy bitches away in her stone, she got shoved out of a window.

Novia let her senses sharpen and her magic - _too strong, she'll need to drain herself soon_ \- sweep across the busy streets, searching - _hunting_ \- for the _damn_ vampire that pushed her from the third storey with half-crazed eyes. Her guess was that he'd recently lost a loved one to be even _considering_ foregoing the dire warnings of hell on earth that would come with the freeing of Silas.

Her neck snapped to the side, head raising. Quiet footsteps and a frantic heartbeat hammered in the distance.

 _Bingo_.

Her magic wrapped around him, unrelenting, and quite literally _yanked_ him to her, watching passively as a struggling vampire was whisked in front if her, yanking at an imaginary noose around his neck.

She debated trapping her in the stone, but then she got bored of watching the guy writhe and decided to just rip out his heart.

Novia looked him straight in the eye, quirked an eyebrow and then, faster than the human gaze could track, she had her hand buried in his chest, gripping his heart. His _whole_ _face_ bugged in fear, pure, undiluted _terror_ dominating his features just as she ripped out the organ that was still beating in her palm. He slumped to the floor, desiccating with that flattering look on his face. Novia did admit it did give her a sense of vicious satisfaction.

She bent down next to the corpse, held her hand out, murmured an incantation in her first language and watched as a lock of chocolate hair flew into her grasp. It was a thing she'd started ever since Stefan told her he wrote down the names of his victims. She took a curl of their hair and stored them in a secret hideout in the suite she'd bought a couple of decades ago and compelled the neighbours to think she aged appropriately. Tiresome, but rewarding. Of course, she hardly utilized her mind-controlling abilities - big on free will an' all - but sometimes, needs must.

Sighing, Novia prodded him with her foot, yanking the body up by the arms and tossing it with her supernatural strength into the dumpster. With a careless flick of her fingers, the whole thing was alight. She was just about to walk away when-

 _Her hearing_ _sharpened_ _. Voices._

"Shh. Shh. _Shh_. It's alright, sweetheart," a roguish male voice cooed. "You know you want it. You're practically _begging_ for it."

Novia's face screwed up in utter revulsion. Men were still as much pigs as they were a century ago, walking around and watching women as if they were pieces of meat existing for their pleasure. It _disgusted_ her.

She was off in seconds, the world flashing past her as she followed the noises.

An alley.

Dirt and grime clung to the walls; vandalism decorating the crumbling bricks. A bulky man with a bald head and a body almost twice the size of the lady he was pinning against the wall. Novia was behind him in a flash, seemingly disappearing and reappearing. Such was the advantage of being as old as she.

Novia inhaled quietly.

 _The man_ _was_ _human._

Good.

Her had wrapped unrelentingly around his neck, hauling him off the woman and smashing him against the wall. Novia let her vampiric features come out to play, revelling in the absolute _horror_ that replaced the cruel crooning. Her eyes shifted to the inhuman electric green with red flakes - a defect of her witch side - as she kept her tight hold on his neck - _crush his windpipe, pull his intestines up through his throat-_ expression turning to that of a monster.

"Careful, darling," she murmured, "Some of us have _fangs_."

She could almost hear _him_ in her ear, a proud smile in his voice as he teasingly told her that if she didn't get a move on and tear out his throat, she'd _bore_ him to death.

Novia almost smiled before she realised he was laying in a box in the middle of the ocean.

She didn't feel like smiling anymore.

Her face turned impassive as she roughly snapped his neck, not particularly wanting to take a bite out of his carotid artery after thinking about her dear friend - _he_ _could of been more, if Finn_ _didn't_ _interrupt_ _._ Would _he have_ _been more? Or would he have regret it and lash out in the_ _only_ _way he could?_ \- again.

She dropped the limp body to the floor dispassionately before turning to the woman - _girl really,_ Novia thought, as the poor thing stared at her with wide eyes - that was leaning against the wall for support.

"You're her," she whispered, sounding awed and frightened at the same time. "You're the one mama and papa tell stories of."

Novia felt _flattered_. They made _bedtime stories_ about her now? Way to boast a girl's ego.

"Do they?" Novia asked, musing. "Well, what do say about me, love?"

The girl swallowed, blinking quickly. "They say you have a stone that you trap the soulless in. Endless torment. A fate worse that death. You hunt them to the ends of the earth. Y-you _mark_ them with your magic a-and let them think they've escaped, only so you can kill them... Mama told Lissie that if she didn't practice her magic, you'd come for us."

Novia's smile faded at the end.

She thought back to herself when she was still human, still innocent, still _naïve_. She ran around the village with her friend, Halfdan, chasing after her, flowers braided in her long black hair and a smile always on her face. She'd sit by the lake in the forest and watch the water ripple gently, feeling so _happy_ with the simple pleasures in life. Nature made her feel safe, wrapping around her like a mother's embrace. She _only_ wished to be like the witches that helped people, a saviour, not a murderer. But then tragedy struck and the Healers she'd looked up to turned her into a weapon. Both witch and vampire, created with the same wretched spell Esther Mikaelson used on her children. Only wood from a White Oak tree could permanently kill her, but something from the spell went wrong and the witches created an abomination against nature; An immortal being of both witch and vampire. Something that should not exist, along with Niklaus, who was a werewolf and a vampire.

The girl in front of her, with the dark skin and curly dark hair, wide brown eyes and shabby clothes, reminded Novia of herself. So she straightened, looked at the girl and asked as kindly as she could - _it had been a while since_ _she'd_ _held a_ _civilised_ _conversation with someone she_ _wasn't_ _trying to_ _actively_ _slaughter-_

"What's your name, darling?"

The girl hesitated before she swallowed with that same determination that was lit inside Novia.

"Layarla. Layarla Bennett."

A Bennett.

 _Witch_.

Novia beamed, relaxing. Her and the Bennetts always got along, ever since she helped dearest Emily from being burned at the stake. Well, temporarily at least. The witch was killed a year later, but oh well. It was the thought that counted.

"I believe we're going to get along just swimmingly, little witch."

The Bennett witch nodded faintly. Novia grinned sharply.

They did become friends. For five years. Before Layarla was killed.

Novia had helped the little Bennett witch flourish, teaching her the geometry of pentacle circles, how to channel power from the elements and when to exercise her magic so it didn't go stiff. Hell, she even helped her write her own grimoire, smiling genuinely every time Layarla grinned proudly, holding up a two-page-spread of magical theory or a new spell that was completely random but _completely_ genius. She felt, in a way, that the little witch was like the daughter she'd never have. She watched her grow from the timid thing she saved in a dirty alley, to a confident young woman that laughed with endless power at her fingertips.

They took a trip to New Orleans for Layarla's twentieth birthday, Novia wanting to share the bright culture of music and art that she'd discovered the last time she was in the city. Everything had been _perfect;_ they'd visited the nine covens, admired the Ancestral Well and partied with the werewolves, before vampires crashed the celebrations and the only survivor was Novia herself. She'd seen her dear, sweet Layarla have her gorgeous head ripped clean from her shoulders.

Novia had burned New Orleans to the ground in her eternal hurricane of _rage-agony-grief-love-anger-fear_ \- that burst from her, so quickly and fiercely, the elements had no choice but to leap to her call and crack the earth open whilst the water smashed angrily against toppling buildings. Ice rained from the sky, fire consumed everything and wind whipped a storm.

None of it filled the gaping _hole_ where her little witch had once been.

 _(And yet, there was another hole, much larger,_ _that_ _had been left empty for years. A tear in her soul that_ _he'd_ _been able to_ _sew_ _back together so seamlessly. She could cover_ _that_ _ache by_ _throwing_ _blades and_ _ripping_ _off body_ _parts_ _, but it_ _didn't_ _change_ _the_ _fact that_ _he_ _was laying_ _daggered_ _in a_ _box_ _in the middle of the ocean.)_

Since that day, Novia hadn't grew close to anyone else. She didn't think she could survive the pain of losing another that she cared so deeply for.

 _(Some would say '_ _love_ _', but what was love if not the feeling she_ _couldn't_ _explain when Layarla would beam_ _and_ _hug her like a child would a mother? What was love if_ _not_ _the_ _warmth_ _in her heart_ _when_ _he'd smile that mischievous_ _smile_ _, overlaying the tenderness he reserved only for her?)_

Novia had left New Orleans behind and threw herself back into hunting. She spent a full year scribbling obsessively in a journal; locations, numbers, sketches - She didn't care. She'd spend hours on end just laying in the middle of her suite, unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling as she watched her victims run from her in paranoia. She chased them down mercilessly, tearing off limbs and thrusting her blade into hearts, trapping souls in hell for eternity. She _lived_ for the chase and with her prey piling up, her legend began to rival the mighty Klaus Mikaelson's.

Her name was whispered in fear, her victims committing _suicide_ to avoid a forever of suffering. It boosted her ego just a bit.

But not once did she flip her humanity switch.

Until one dark day when she lost _him_ for good.  
  
  
  
  


 **_Mystic Falls  
_ ** **_2011_ **

She'd heard the rumours, of course. Strange things happening in Mystic Falls. Supernatural things. Whispers spread all over the world of a cure for vampirism, of The Five emerging from the shadows they'd been hiding in for centuries. Witches murmured worriedly of an immortal being named Silas who would bring hell on earth if he rose again. Werewolves excitedly chattering about the fake Sun and Moon Curse being lifted. Vampires panicking as an entire sire line was wiped out with the death of an Original.

Novia had to admit, it was amusing watching the Sire lines brawl.

Her own Sire line was made up of witches and werewolves that came to her seeking to prove if her myth was true, if her blood could turn them into hybrids.

 _(It was true_.)

Her little sirelings were friends she'd made over the centuries. She helped them control their new urges and handed out a few tips- _voila_ , a whole _army_ of rare hybrids that would willingly _die_ for her.

Anyways, Novia felt it was time to check out the small little town she hadn't visited since 1864, but imagine her surprise when she got there and saw him awake and breathing.

She and Kol Mikaelson were very close in the ninth century. Novia stumbled across him in New Orleans' City of the Dead when she visited the first time, cursing up a storm when a Claire witch locked him out of a tomb with blood magic. She only unlocked it because she hated the Claires and well, she became fascinated with the youngest Original who was rumoured to have slaughtered entire villages for _fun_.

Her stone was uncharacteristically excited around him, but in a good way. Almost as if it was trying to tell her something.

Kol became enamoured with her hybrid status, almost envious before he took to firing questions at her like an excited child. She'd answered everything with an amused smile on her face and when Kol finally told her he was working on a dagger that would incapacitate his brother, Novia taught him rare magic she'd learnt in different countries across the world. They learnt from each other, only friends, but with him, she felt like she could hang the stars and the moon if she so wished. They made each other better until their meetings stopped being about magic and theories, but about themselves and the fascinating stories they'd collected over the years. She laughed more with him, feeling almost _human_ instead of the tough woman with the sharp teeth and electric eyes.

When he wanted to lash out and go on a rampage, she'd be there for him. They'd stand on her favourite bridge and jump into the body of water below, laughing and racing, never tiring, until Kol's murderous rage quelled and they'd lay upon a hill, watching the sky lighten until they were both exhausted. She was there for Kol, just as he was there for her.

Sometimes, she'd wake up in the mornings and wonder why she was cursed to walk the earth for eternity. She'd lay in bed, miserable, until Kol knocked cheerfully upon her door and drag her up with a few witty comments and a fondly exasperated ' _darling_ '.

And then Nik daggered him.

He callously drove the dagger into Kol's heart while she could only watch in a room full of witnesses. Novia wanted to tear the bastard limb from limb, but then Kol's boyish face appeared in her mind and she forced herself to stop and think of the golden dagger in their tomb, needing only one final touch.

" _Revenge is a_ _dish_ _best served a_ _century_ _later when Nik thinks he's in the clear but then he gets a dagger_ _shoved_ _in his heart and you get the sweet satisfaction of watching his shocked face_ _grey_ _, darling,"_ Kol had said with a wicked grin whilst Novia quirked an eyebrow in entertainment.

So she walked from New Orleans the next day, sealing their tomb shut and vowing that one day, she'd find Kol so that they could dagger Niklaus together and hide him in the deepest ocean.

Imagine her surprise when she saw Kol in Mystic Falls, a century later.

He was as impish as ever, kicking poor Finn in the ankles and shrugging innocently when his brother glared back at him. His eyes still sparked with playful intent and he still walked with the confident gait of a predator, but something about him seemed... _flatter_. Like a shoe that hadn't been polished in a while.

Novia couldn't bring herself to meet him face to face. He probably assumed she was dead because she never told him she was an Original like himself. He presumed she was a normal vampire with a freaky defect.

She stuck around in the small town, unable to pull herself away from the dangerous orbit that seemed intent on dragging her in.

It was by pure chance she was at the Gilbert house that night.

_(And wasn't she surprised to find a human doppelganger hiding in the quaint little town where the supernatural seemed to flee to.)_

Kol kicked down the door with a face like thunder, stepping over the threshold and wielding a wooden stake. His face was cold as he climbed the stairs, the stake twirling in his grip as he called out mockingly.

Novia cloaked herself, unable to resist her curiosity, and followed, watching with faintly raised eyebrows as he pinned the doppelganger to the wall with the stake and went after the Hunter in the kitchen.

"- _which arm is it again, mate? Left or right? Guess I'll just have to take them both_ _then-_ "

The doppelganger - Elenor, or something - barrelled into him, burying the chef's knife into the joint of his shoulder whilst the Hunter sprayed him with vervain water.

All too late Novia saw the silver stake of White Oak.

Kol _screamed_.

It was terror that she only heard from her victims when they saw her coming. It was the terror of someone _knowing_ they were about to die but wishing _anyone_ could save them. It was the terror Novia felt when she saw Layarla's head separated from her body. It was fear in it's purest form, a fear that she never wished he would have to experience.

Time slowed.

Novia lunged forward, cloaking spell falling away, but it was too _late-_

The stake pierced Kol's heart.

Horrid grey veins crawled up his neck and before she could grab his arm and siphon the magic away, he was bursting into flames.

 _Kol_ -

 _("You're a_ _witch_ _and a vampire!_ _How_ _is_ _that_ _possible?"_ )

_("Oh dear. I've hit a nerve-")_

("Relax, _darling- I just_ _wanted_ _us to be even. You snapped my neck. You_ _killed_ _my brother and then you_ humiliated _me-")_

 _("'Nia! I did it!_ _I've_ _got_ _the dagger!")_

 _("I'll spend eternity with you, darling. We can spend_ _it_ _together_ _. Maybe pissing off Nik along the way.")_

 _("-I hated_ _being_ _a vampire at first. I_ _couldn't_ _feel magic anymore. It was my worst nightmare. Well, after the_ _nightmare_ _of_ _being_ _stuck in a room with my siblings naked, of course.")_

Her best friend. Her wild, beautiful best friend that retained his humour even through betrayal and bloodshed. Kol, who never minded that she was a little broken around the edges. Kol, who could brighten her mood with only a smile.

The pain tore through her, an endless tide of agony that burned brighter than the sun. It ripped her apart, that hole in her heart where he was always meant to be tearing further until all she felt was a terrible, _terrible_ sense of loss.

Her vision blurred and she vaguely realised someone was screaming.

It wasn't her, was it?

But it was.

She realised she was sitting beside him and quickly, she placed her hands on his burning arms, uncaring for the flames that licked her already healing skin.

Novia drew the power into herself, trying to siphon magic _that_ _wasn't_ _there_ -

But _surely_ -

Kol _wasn't_ dead.

No, no. Of course he wasn't.

It was another witch that was trying to torture her with visions.

 _(Yes, yes._ _Obviously_ _it was. Of course Kol_ _wasn't_ _dead. He was an_ Original _-)_

She wasn't going to fall for it this time.

Novia stood abruptly, hardly even glancing to Niklaus who stood at the door, staring at his fake-brother's body.

"Alright witch!" She yelled, ignoring the bewildered looks fake-doppelganger and fake-Hunter were sending her. "Enough with your games! I will not be fooled by such trickery!"

But the seconds passed and the vision did not fade.

She looked at Kol's limp body.

 _(-and he_ _smiled_ _, eyes lighting up as she_ _laughed_ _, like it_ _was_ all _he ever wanted to see her truly happy-)_

He was _not_ \- she _refused_ to believe it!

 _He's gone_ , _Nia_ , a quiet voice said in her mind, sounding exactly like Layarla. _You know he is_.

" _No, no-_ _Kol_ -"

He would never twirl her around her room again, music playing softly in the background. He would never splash her with water from the lake under the bridge in the middle of the night. She would never sit with her feet tucked under her and her hair behind her ear as she sketched his peaceful features, glowing in the firelight. She would never look up with veins under her eyes and blood staining her lips, watching as he fed on a human, making everything seem so _sensual_ -

Because Kol Mikaelson was _dead_.

And Novia couldn't help but feel like she had died along with him.

For the first time in all her life, she delved deep within her mind and-

 _-let_ _herself_ _wonder if it was the right thing to_ do-

\- flipped the switch.

Everything went blissfully quiet.

Why did she care so much one vampire was dead? Why did she care her best friend was killed in front of her? Who fucking _cared_? People died all the time.

She glanced at the doppelganger wench and the Hunter. She licked her lips.

 _(Novia was going to tear them apart and_ _make_ _the sister watch as she ate the boy's heart-_ )

Her lips curled into a malevolent grin, eyes as blank as a piece of paper.

She painted the walls red with their blood, and when she'd successfully had her revenge-

 _(-grabbed their arms and_ yanked _pulling their magic until the bitch was grey and_ _temporarily_ _lifeless and the boy was pale and as dead as her best friend-_ )

-she didn't spare a glance at Klaus who was watching her with unreadable eyes.

A year. She'd have a year of no emotions and then she'd turn them back on.

Novia's eyes flickered to Kol's burnt figure.

Something twitched inside her. She shoved it away.

She'd make sure he was buried in New Orleans with the witches he'd so admired.  
  
  
  
  


**_New Orleans_ **   
**_2017_ **

"Hey Kol," she murmured. "It's been a while."

Six years. Six years since he was- _gone_.

"Word on the street- there's a prophecy about your family going 'round the witch circles. Doom and gloom; y'know, the norm," she took a swig from his favourite bottle of bourbon. "You have a niece; last time I checked in on her, she's happy and healthy. A witch, too. You'd be proud of her. Nik doesn't remember me - bloody _witches_ \- so I can't see little Hope, but I visit her on the astral plane sometimes. She thinks I'm her imaginary friend, bless her. I can't remember being that young and innocent."

She looked at her hands and let a tendril of her natural magic twist into the air, watching as it spiralled down into the lake below. Novia swung her legs back and forth, her sensitive hearing picking up footsteps in the distance.

Probably a hiker.

Whatever.

She took another swig of the bottle.

"I miss you all the time, y'know. Sometimes I'm sharpening my arrows or flicking through a grimoire and I think of some witty comment that shouldn't be funny, but _is_ because _you_ said it. Or I've got my hand in some evil blokes chest and I hear your voice telling me to get a move on or I'll end up talking him to death."

Novia laughed sourly.

"I didn't kill the doppelganger. It would've been too kind a mercy. So instead I took advice from an old pal and decided to kill every member of her family and leave only one alive, wondering if they're cursed. Just like the good days when you were feeling murderous and I was feeling bitter so we'd close our eyes, get a map and pick a town to slaughter. Mm. D'you remember when you were teaching me to make dark objects and Elijah thought we were joining a cult? I had to listen to no more than _five_ fucking speeches about not making hasty decisions with my life. 'Course, it didn't matter because he forgot who I was five minutes later. I still wonder why only you can remember me. At least I would've had someone to write me a eulogy when I kicked the bucket."

Novia fell silent, just listening to the trees sway in the breeze and the water ripple. It was a beautiful day, just perfect for what she was going to do.

"I've found a way to save you, darling," she murmured, her eyes lidded. "Go back in time, get the doppelganger and her friends off vervain and compel them to trust me whilst I pose as the doppelgangers long lost sister. I'll save you, stop Silas, destroy the White Oak and kill the little bitch who dared to think she and her novice Hunter of a brother could kill my best friend." Novia nodded decisively. "I'll use one of the rings we made- probably the one that can alter physical appearances, give Nik, Bekah and Elijah their memories of me and save the day, hopefully without having to kill anyone on the way."

She let the empty bottle of bourbon drop into the water and swung her legs around onto the ground, not even stumbling. She ran a hand through her hair, tilting her head up to the cloudless sky and vowed that she would fix everything.

As she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked back to her car, she was unaware of the ghost that sat right next to where she just was. He watched her go, swigging a bottle of his own, with a tender affection in his eyes that a rare few had ever seen.

"I know you will, darling," Kol said quietly. "And I will wait for you when you do."  
  
  
  


Novia flipped quickly through her grimoire, lighting candles with flicks of her fingers and breathing out the anxiety that clung to her like a second skin. She tore her eyes away from the spell book and rushed with supernatural speed to the bag packed with all her favourite, irreplaceable things.

There was the jacket Layarla had bought her; the flower crown that a witch friend in the 1700's had enchanted for her; Novia's collection of journals and scrapbooks from over the years; her stone with her bow and quiver; a perfect golden dagger for Niklaus, created by she and Kol; Esther Mikaelson's grimoire; a pendant given to her by a Seer who had looked at her with knowing eyes and told her it was for when she decided to rewind; the compass Emily Bennett had pushed into her hands before she was dragged to her death; a box that held photographs and jewellery of importance and-

_("Novia?" Kol asked quietly._

_Novia looked up from the spell book she was scouring in fascination, curious as to why Kol was calling her by her full name. It was always 'Nia'_ _or_ _'darling' or 'love'. Novia was too stiff and proper for both their_ _tastes_ _._

 _"At your service," she quipped, her lips curving into a_ _smile_ _._

 _Kol smiled too, but it was overshadowed by_ _the_ _abnormally_ _serious look in his_ _eyes_ _._

 _Novia felt her brow_ _crease_ _._

 _"_ _What's_ _the_ _matter_ _, Kol?_ _It's_ _not your brother again, is it?"_

_"No, no," He reassured, "Nik's only problem at the moment is how much gel he's going to need imported in from Italy to tame his hair."_

_Novia raised an eyebrow._

_"I-" he fiddled almost_ nervously _with_ _something_ _in his hands. "I wanted to give you this."_

 _Novia peered closer and felt her dead heart soften as her face melted with tenderness. "Oh,_ Kol, _darling; it's_ beautiful."

_And it was._

_A glistening blue gem - the_ _colour_ _of her sweet eyes - stared back at her, a delicate silver chain just long_ _enough_ _to_ _fit_ _around her neck on her smooth throat. There was a silver_ _circle_ _with strange symbols on it, feeling almost_ magical _when she_ _touched_ _it._

" _Written in my_ _first_ _language, Nia," he_ _whispered_ _,_ _looking_ _hopefully_ _into her_ _eyes_ _._

 _Novia's_ _smile_ _softened impossibly as she gently_ _pulled_ _her hair over one shoulder and turned around._

_"Put it on for me?"_

_Kol swallowed,_ _throat_ _bobbing, as he unclasped the chain and drew the cold material around her neck. Goosebumps_ _rippled_ _all over her smooth skin as her_ _heart_ _missed_ _a thump. Kol's_ _breath_ _was warm on the shell of his ear, even as Novia listened to the_ _quick_ _thump-thump-thump of his heart. He clasped it quietly, and when Novia turned around,_ _they_ _were almost nose to nose._

 _Their_ _eyes locked._

_The world fell away._

_All_ _that_ _existed were their breaths mixing together and the fact that she could see the adorable freckle on the bridge of his nose. His eyes_ _weren't_ _just chocolate-brown like she thought, but a_ _flecked_ _sort_ _of_ _honey that reminded her of a_ _Winter_ _evening spent by the fire._

 _Her eyes_ _flickered_ _to his lips._

 _His breath trembled as his eyes slowly shut, their lips almost,_ almost _brushing_ -

" _Brother! Hurry-_ oh."

 _Novia and Kol jumped apart, she flattening her dress_ _like_ _it_ _needed_ _to flattened, and avoiding eye contact with the very beautiful man wearing a suit that made him go from attractive to_ hot.

 _Kol_ _didn't_ _look_ _Finn_ _in the eye as she_ _slid_ _out of the room_ _without_ _another_ _glance_ _at her. But_ _not_ _before she saw a glimmer of silver in his ear and a garnet stone with a small inscription in a language she_ _knew_ _well._

 _It was the last time he saw her_ _before_ _he was daggered and woke up with his siblings_ _telling_ _him she_ _died_ _in the fire Mikael caused.)_

-the necklace Kol gave her.

She thought back to the time she poured over translator dictionaries, trying to decipher what it was Kol scripted onto her favourite necklace.

She did find out, eventually.

 _Always_ , was on hers, and _Forever_ , was on his.

Novia drank in the sight of her apartment that overlooked the bustling city of New Orleans, and smiled to herself. She flitted over to the old books splayed out over the table, hoisted her bag firmly on her shoulder and exhaled.

The words slipped from her tongue like honey and as she shut her eyes, a wind began to skitter her spell book's pages.

Her eyes turned white as her whole body seized, shaking like a leaf in the breeze.

Time and space bent to her will as witches all over the world felt the massive wave of magical release sweep over them all.

Novia was twisting the very _laws_ of the universe, and as a blinding golden light swallowed her whole, she couldn't help but smile. _She was going to save him._

 _Always and Forev_ -

She was gone.


	2. Business

_**And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody  
**_ _**It won't leave my head  
** _ _**Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine  
** _ __**But I wish I was dead**

\- Dark Paradise (Lana Del Rey) 

**_Mystic Falls - 2011_ **

Novia woke to the sun on her face and the trees swaying in the gentle breeze.

Her response was automatic, born from centuries of paranoia that could rival the ever elusive Klaus Mikaelson; she sat up, giving no time for her body to shake the lethargic sensation that lingered in her coiled muscles, and let her inhuman senses survey her surroundings.

Leaves crinkled beneath her; soft light filtered through the canopy of foliose; the rich scent of nature, distant dust and something... _familiar_ ; drool gathered in her mouth as the delicious scent of freshly spilled supernatural blood bombarded her nose; human heartbeats _very_ far in the distance as tiny little bird heart's hammered as if sensing a predator nearby.

Feeling no threat, Novia stood warily. She glanced down and immediately, her cautious expression twisted into one of irritation. The contents of her bag were strewn over the ground, scattered amongst the bed of leaves, irritation turning to mild anger as she saw the necklace Kol gave her tossed carelessly by a tree stump. She flicked her wrist, muttering a sharp incantation, and watched as everything she bought with her in her trip through time flew gently back into her bag. Novia snatched it up and slung it over her shoulder, pulling her hair out of her eye as she carefully put her necklace on. Only once she'd properly straightened did she let herself smile.

 _She'd_ _done it._ _She'd_ _gone_ _back._

The smile grew into a grin as she turned on her heel and made her way out of the forest. Just as she was about to let her senses dull, she heard-

 _A_ _heartbeat_ _._

 _Close by_ _._

It was weak, but steadily getting stronger- a vampire- but it was old, far older than anyone she had ever-

No, that wasn't true.

The smile fell from her face as her eyes hardened.

There was an Original nearby, and judging by the scent, it was exactly the one she wanted to see.

The trees rushed by her as she took full advantage of her vampire speed, following her animalistic instincts until she stopped outside an old mansion that looked like it had been abandoned decades ago. Novia tilted her head back and let her eyes close, her basic nature taking over until suddenly, she knew exactly why dearest Elijah was there.

(-A doppelganger, _frightened-scared-brave_ , Trevor and Rose, _family-terror-grief_ , Elijah, _indifference-disbelief-amusement_ , Salvatore's, _glee-relief-uncertainty-)_

Novia opened her eyes as she grinned - far too sharply, far too _dangerously_. The doppelganger, how could she forget. Klaus would successfully break his curse, somehow leaving the doppelganger alive, and create his little army against Mikael, only to slaughter them at a later date. Last time she saw Rebekah in New Orleans, the blonde constantly referred to her as 'The Doppelganger Bitch That Stole My Necklace' no matter the reproachful looks Elijah would send her way. He always _did_ have a thing for the Petrova bloodline, going so far as to offer the petty little wench- (Novia would never forgive her for murdering her best friend just to fulfil a stupid _Hunters_ _Mark_ ) -a deal just to humour her.

 _What was it_ about the doppelgangers that just _drew_ the male species to them?

Novia still had Katerina marked, leaving the girl stuck in an endless cycle of reckless paranoia. It was amusing for her to watch the Petrova girl scheme adorably, thinking _she_ \- practically an _infant_ compared to Novia who was an upgraded Original with Siphoner witch abilities - would ever stand a chance against her. She'd taken down immortals far older than Katerina, no matter what the foolish girl may've thought.

Novia snapped back to attention when she heard a quiet groan of pain.

Elijah. Right.

She nearly knocked the door off its hinges as it flew open, splinters of rotting wood flying through the air. Not giving him a chance to respond, she sped over to him, pinning him to the wall by his neck with an unrelenting grip. Veins crawled under her eyes as her normal blue irises bled a stunning emerald. Her teeth sharpened as her lips curled into a ferocious snarl, a furious rage racing from the very tips of her fingers to the roots of her hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a few discarded candles light up, but so blinded by anger, she didn't care.

Elijah's eyes widened in recognition, and were Novia in her right mind, she would question how he could possibly remember her.

"Hello, _Elijah_ ," she hissed viciously, her hand unmoving even as the Original tried to pry it off. She was stronger than him, and fuelled by emotion.

Elijah was the one that held Kol still as Klaus shoved a dagger in his heart, his eyes only showing cool aloofness at seeing his youngest brother being subjected to years of darkness, like he himself had once been. He had mercilessly tore her best friend from her when they needed each other the most, better yet he had the audacity to look her straight in the eye as Kol's body desisted and slumped to the floor carelessly.

Novia shoved her hand into his chest, her fangs glinting in the light as his face screwed up in pain. She held his heart in her hand as she locked eyes with him as he did a century ago.

"You feel that?" She asked him lowly, voice dripping with hatred as she squeezed his heart, "The pain that's burning you alive? The fear that's eating you from the inside? That's how I felt when you and Niklaus daggered my _best friend._ "

Elijah's eyes widened as he gagged on blood, strangled gurgling tearing from his throat, even as Novia's face darkened, lips pulling back to expose glistening fangs that were sharper and deadlier than Klaus' at that current moment.

Her bite caused a magical affliction deadly to all supernatural creatures with the only cure being her blood. It slowly - _and painfully_ \- drained all the magic from the victim's body. For a vampire, that meant death. For a witch, it meant a life without their connection to nature, a fate believed worse than death. But for a werewolf, it was _terrible_. Her venom would rip a part of who they were away, leaving a hole inside of them that could never be filled. The only wolf she'd ever bitten committed suicide after his first full moon without turning, unable to handle the agonizing grief that welled in him at the loss.

She'd never bitten an Original, and although she'd love nothing more than to watch Elijah die torturously, she did need help with gathering information on the current situation with Niklaus.

Novia gave him a resentful look and ripped his heart out, staring distastefully at it as she let if flop to the floor along with Elijah's temporarily dead body. Unless things had changed, according to experience, Elijah would wake in a couple of hours with a fully regrow heart, only feeling a burn in his chest for a day or so before that healed.

It was worth it though. Lessened the betrayal. 

Sighing, Novia rolled up the sleeves to her jacket, the blood already drying on her hands. Sparing one last look at Elijah, she walked leisurely to the room the doppelganger was held in, nose wrinkling as she saw a head separated from a man's body.

That must of been Trevor.

She bent down to toss the head on top of the body, casting a fire spell and standing back as flames reared. The disgusting crackle of burning flesh distracted her for only a second before she flicked open the creaky windows with a twitch of her finger. Novia put her feet up on a couch, not even looking at the drop of dried blood on the cushion. She did, however, frown when she heard the crinkle of paper underneath her. She felt for it blindly and smoothed the page out, eyebrows raising.

_Stefan and Damon are coming for you - B_

Ah, the Bennett witch.

She felt a tug at her heart. _Layarla_ -

Clearly not as powerful as her ancestors. Sweet Layarla would of visited on the astral plane and-

Taking a breath, Novia placed her hands flat on the paper and let her magic flow, wrapping around the faint signature and suddenly-

(She was laughing with Caroline as Elena rolled her eyes, discreetly wiping away the blood that dripped onto her upper lip when they both looked away. She glanced at Elena just as Stefan wrapped an arm around her, a frown growing on both their faces as Stefan whispered something inaudible in her ear. Caroline was watching them too, her smile falling into an earnestly concerned expression that only she could seem pull off.

"It's Rose," Stefan said finally. "She said she has information on Klaus and the Originals." 

Caroline leaned forward eagerly, as did Bonnie-Novia and Elena. 

"Well? Don't leave us hanging. What did she say?"

"There's five of them: four brothers and a sister. Klaus, Elijah and Kol were the only ones she knew by name. Klaus was always described as the dangerous one, slaying every man, woman and child in his path. Elijah, the noble one. He's the voice of reason, apparently. And Kol. A psychotic maniac that's slaughtered thousands just for fun." 

"And...?" Caroline raised an eyebrow, expression on the brink of impatience. 

"There's rumoured to be another Hybrid, one that's part witch, part vampire."

"But that's impossible," Bonnie-Novia denied immediately. "Vampires are dead, no longer having a connection with nature. Witches cannot be _both_ -" 

"But this one _is_. Legend says she's the most powerful witch to ever walk the earth, feared by all supernatural species because she _has no_ _weaknesses_. She's more powerful than the whole of the Bennett bloodline, living _and_ dead. Ruthless, Bonnie. If she could kill a coven full of powerful witches with a simple flick of her wrist, I don't want to _think_ about what she could do to Elena." 

"What-" Bonnie-Novia looked lost, "What type of witch is she?" 

Stefan gave her a confused look before his face cleared. "Does 'Siphoner Witch' ring any bells?"

Bonnie-Novia paled drastically. "Siphoner? You're sure it's Siphoner?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Grams didn't know much about them, but what she did say was that they could absorb magic from any source - practically unkillable. If we could lure her to Mystic Falls, we could convince her to kill Klaus-"

"Slow down, Bonnie!" Caroline exclaimed. "A, _how_ exactly are we going to lure in an all powerful witch-vampire hybrid? B, what's to stop her from killing all of us? And C, what has she got to do with the Originals?" 

Elena's lips parted as the truth dawned on her, but just as she went to say, Caroline beat her to the punchline. 

"Oh my god! She's an Original with witchy powers!" 

Bonnie-Novia looked on the verge of fainting.

"An- An Original vampire with magic?" she whispered. 

Stefan, Caroline and Elena all shared looks. 

"Klaus isn't out biggest problem, is he? " the blonde baby vampire asked, her expression turning into one of tired aggravation. "Shit is about to hit the fan.")

Novia bolted upright from the couch, coughing as she came back to reality. She was dazed for only a moment before she realised exactly where she was and exactly why she was there. _Elijah_.

Swinging her legs off the couch, she let the dizziness pass before rubbing her temple, a frown briefly crossing her face. She didn't want Nik dead, not really. Despite him being a royal dick, she didn't wish to kill Klaus. Kol, for all his talk, under all the anger and hatred, didn't want his brother permanently gone either. He only wished to make him suffer the same fate he had over the centuries, nothing more. The Bennett witch, the baby blonde vampire and the Salvatore brothers were plotting against Niklaus? Alarm bells rang loudly in her head. That path always lead to someone's discovery of Mikael, and in their zeal to be the one to end the legend of the Original Hybrid, they would awaken someone very dangerous and very vengeful. Something about that man made her skin _crawl_.

Rumours of the doppelganger would've already began to spread, especially as the supernatural communities tripped over themselves to be the one's to hand her to Klaus. Any vampire wishing to slide into his good graces would be flocking to Mystic Falls to hand her over. Novia didn't want Niklaus dead, but that didn't mean she would let him skip into the sunset with his stupid hybrid army that he was _longing_ to create.

Because at the end of the day, as much of an absolute bastard Klaus was, he was Kol's brother, and despite Kol's vehement protests otherwise, he _would_ care if any of his siblings died. Under all the betrayal, grief and loneliness, there was always that unwavering loyalty that never strayed, even when Elijah and Nik fought like barbarians over a silly girl. _Tatia_ _Petrova_ , Kol had said with a sharp grin, _the little tart that tore_ _my_ _big brothers apart._

Rebekah, daggered only a few times, always on Niklaus' side, even if it meant turning her back on the true love she'd always wanted. Elijah, stubbornly repeating that he could be saved, redeemed even. (Yeah, right. She knew, from all her years on the earth, that no such thing existed. Redemption. What a _silly_ notion.) Finn, silenced because of his self-loathing of what he was. Finn who was abandoned in a box for _nine centuries_ because he was 'the boring one'.

And Kol, who was the youngest of the brothers and the most reckless. He drained entire villages dry just for his own amusement, and yet, buried beneath all the _anger-pain-sadness-nostalgia-mischief-_ was a boy who had his connection to nature mercilessly ripped away and found pleasure, not in the violent bloodshed, but in the simple things. In the soft jazz that would play in their favourite bar as he held her and swayed, one of her hands twined with his as the other felt his shoulder. His hands, still smooth and boyish, not used to physical labour, would grip her waist as he twirled her, laughing as she smiled freely; In the people that gathered on the streets to parade, bright colours everywhere. For once, the sound of thumping heartbeats would be drowned out by thunderous beats that made her blood thump in rhythm until she no longer knew which was the beat and which was her. He was daggered the most because he wasn't noble like Elijah, loyal like Rebekah, quiet like Finn or angry like Niklaus: he was playful and lonely, constantly feeling pushed out of the promise of Always and Forever. _The black sheep,_ Kol said. _Too childish, too wily, too different for me to fit in with my siblings_. Novia remembered the first time she'd heard him say that. The empathy, the _understanding_ , the support that overpowered all her emotions had briefly surprised her, before she was filled with an impulsive sense of determination. She'd dragged him to her favourite bridge that night and told him all about the witches that always watched her with suspicion because she wasn't like them, and the vampires that feared her because she was an abomination of nature. Kol had smiled at her then, and she'd noticed that it wasn't filled with arrogance or mayhem like they usually were. It was kind and tender, an odd expression on the youngest Mikaelson brother, but one that suited him just as much as his smirk did.

Swallowing, Novia blinked quickly, mentally scoffing at herself for getting so swept up in memories. The Originals were like a soap opera, with Rebekah's dramatics, Nik's melodrama and Elijah's eternal wisdom.

Novia entertained herself with images of 'Auntie Elijah' before she reminded herself that said Auntie was growing back his heart in the next room and in no state to be an agony aunt. She shoved aside the brief flicker of guilt that bubbled inside her. Elijah _did_ help dagger Kol, after all. She _would've_ daggered him as pay back, but then she'd already ripped out his most vital organ. That probably counted as enough revenge for one day.

Flopping back onto the dusty couch, Novia felt blindly for her bag and took out the first book she found. She glanced down at the journal, pausing as she saw it was her old sketchbook from 1912.

It had been a while since she'd leafed through it.

Her eyes darted to the door, ears straining for movement. No heartbeat. Good, she had at least an hour.

Breathing in, Novia gently pulled the cover back, careful not to touch the pages that were filled with both pencil, charcoal and ink sketches. Unlike Klaus, she never took to paintings, instead choosing to draw in shades of grey. Colour... colour was sweet pinks and sunshine yellows, but grey was stormy skies and angry oceans. Drawing became her way of releasing the horrible darkness in her, the cluster of _remorse-guilt-grief_ that she buried within herself, unable to be released in any other way then through paper because it would cripple her. All the families she had torn apart, all the parents she'd ripped away from their children. 

It was small things at first, just the man that hurriedly bowed to her when she visited royalty, but her drawing captured the despair in his eyes and resignation in his soul. He was there against his will, and he had been broken.

Her fingers brushed lightly against the violent streaks of black on the page, all joining and curving until a wolf with ferocious eyes was lunging through its two dimensional prison. She remembered climbing the highest tree in the bayou on the full moon and watching as the men turned into beasts. It had inspired her, in a way; the savage way the wolves leaped at each other, jaws clamping and growls tearing through the silence.

Carefully, she turned the next few pages, barely sparing a glance at a few of her pencil sketches. Ink was her favourite to draw with, she decided, as she looked at the swirling violet that created the creature on the page. She was beautiful and even on paper, the kindness in her eyes and the magic in her veins stood out. A witch friend of hers that was always so happy, until Marcel Gerard, Klaus' self-proclaimed son, tore her apart. Lilly was always willing to help, with her nice smiles and trusting eyes. Every child in the covens sought her affection.

Novia smiled bitterly. She hadn't realised how much she'd lost in New Orleans.

 _(But_ _she'd_ _gained_ _something_ _precious, even through the loss.)_

She traced her sketch of a wilting rose - drawn when she was having one of her miserable days and Kol had been held up at the compound - and her hastily drawn picture of her childhood teddy bear - nostalgia could be a bigger bitch than herself sometimes.

But what really made her stop and stare, was a sketch of... Kol.

It was done in pencil, but she couldn't seem to dislike it, not when it had managed to produce such beauty. She'd almost forgotten how attractive he was, but somehow, looking at her old memories, looking at the darkness streaking the heavy pages, she wondered how something so peaceful could be hidden amongst such violence.

Novia remembered sitting by the corner, one leg folded over the other, with a pencil stuck behind her ear and her journal-turned-sketchpad open, a blank page staring up at her. The dark lead of the pencil had hesitated before she glanced up and caught sight of Kol. He looked so different in a crisp white shirt and dark jacket, his flirtatious eyes skimming over the crowd to find an evening meal. Novia had watched him for only a moment before her pencil was gliding over the paper and the perfection standing in her line of sight was forever captured.

She only realised she'd been staring so long when a quiet creak made her ears perk.

Elijah was up.

Novia cast one last look at her journal before softly placing it back into her bag and making herself comfortable against the pillows. She couldn't be the sentimental girl that reminisced over old sketches; she had to be the confident woman with the distant eyes and cold smiles. 

Not a second later, an Original in a dusty suit walked through the door. He straightened his jacket, face utterly blank, even though a slight flicker of apprehension shadowed his eyes when he saw her. 

"I must confess," he said, breaking the silence, "I didn't think I'd see you again, Novia." 

"Yes well, it just so happens when rumours of Klaus surfacing after decades of radio silence happen across my ears, I do get rather intrigued. I suspect it was news of the doppelganger that drew you here?" 

Novia flicker her wrist and murmured a short incantation, seeing Elijah glance around the room for a seat. A chair dragged itself across the room for the Original.

Elijah dipped his head in gratitude.

"I've recently garnered the help of two Martin witches to aid in thwarting Niklaus, but I was contacted by Trevor and the lovely Rose-Marie before I had the opportunity settle my affairs. A human doppelganger will draw the interest of Klaus, giving the perfect opportunity to lure him to Mystic Falls."

Novia pursed her lips, eyes narrowing.

"You were going to make a deal with the girl, were you not?"

Elijah nodded hesitantly, looking to genuinely believe that there was nothing wrong with so trustingly giving his word to such a sneaky bitch.

"She will use you to her own gain, Elijah. Surely you can see?"

She just could not accept that someone as old as the man sitting across from her would fall for a sweet lie from familiar lips. What was it about those doppelgangers that just drew people in? Tatia, from the picture Kol painted, was a convincing wench that got off of pitting the two Mikaelson brothers against each other. Katerina was no better, if not _worse_. And Elena... she was possibly the most dangerous of the lot. 

She hid her treachery behind innocent smiles and doe eyes, her words sweet even as poisonous lies burned the air like acid. The Salvatore brothers seemed so desperate to save her life when really, all she was was a fragile mortal that shared a face with two other girls. Honestly, three vampires, a witch, a werewolf and a vampire hunter all in her friend circle? Who did the girl think she was kidding?

Novia had watched empires rise and fall, authority figures tumble sharply from grace and civilisation hang on the brink of collapse. So many human lives _snatched_ in an instant, and yet, half of Mystic Falls were willing to face death for just one silly girl that could die crossing the road the following morning.

What a _joke_.

But when Novia looked in Elijah's eyes, she saw only naïve trust and honest confusion. Had a thousand years not taught him that betrayal came from the most unexpected of places? How many times had Nik stood in front of him, an apology in his eyes as he shoved a dagger into his heart? How many times had Katerina smiled whilst plotting how to escape her fate as a sacrifice? How many times had opposition given their word and lied? _How, many, times?_

"Klaus will become the hybrid." She said bluntly. When Elijah opened his mouth to protest, she silenced him with a look. "He will find a werewolf, turn a vampire and kill the doppelganger. A true hybrid at last."

"You sound so sure-"

"I know it will happen because I've seen it with my very own eyes."

"I was... unaware you had prophetic abilities, Novia."

"I don't, Elijah," she said with a flat look. "I know what will happen because I'm from the future."

There. She said it. Good. She wasn't going to hide the whole, 'I-Know-The-Future-Shh-It's-A-Secret' thing when it could obviously be used as leverage against her. Of course, she wasn't going to tell the Salvatore's, or sweet Elena, unless she could compel it out of them.

"I'm sorry-" Elijah began, an annoyed tick to his jaw.

"You don't believe me?" She didn't wait for an answer, grabbing his arm, "Then let me show you."

The psychic abilities of being a vampire had never been her favourite. It took concentration to enter an immortal's mind, but her focus was always wavering and skipping. Always searching for her next target. Never stopping. But when she was fuelled by extreme determination and reckless abandon, her poor concentration abilities didn't stand a chance.

Memories rushed to the forefront of her mind as she let them filter through the tunnel connecting hers and Elijah's minds through their touch. It was difficult to pay attention to memories when emotions were hitting her at ever turn. There was the terrifying plunge of _happiness-sadness-anger-love-envy-amusement_ before-

("Brother, _please_. I did not have their bodies hidden in the oceans- they're safe, I swear it, and if you kill me, you'll _never_ find them."

_Golden eyes with ferocious fangs, crawling veins and a merciless grip._

"And I'm faster than your average hunter-"

 _**BOOM** _ **_!_ **

_Distant, as though underwater;_ "The Five were a group of highly skilled vampire hunters with a tattoo that lead to the one thing my dearest sister wants the most- a Cure."

_A stunned silence._

"Silas will rise again and when he does, it will be hell on earth. I want you to remember when all your friends are murdered, Bonnie Bennett, that it was _all_ _your_ _fault_ for practicing Expression in the first place."

 _Hateful glares with a mind-numbing aneurysm that made his eyes screw shut and his_ _fangs_ _burn-_

"I've considered your request for a truce," _Kol said, face neutral. It hardened not a second later, lips_ _curling_ _into a snarl and eyes_ _turning_ _cold._ "Request denied."

 _The door was slammed_ _hurriedly_ _in his_ _face_ _._

"Oh I'm sorry- I've already been invited in!" _He kicked the door of it's hinges,_ _striding_ _into_ _the living room, expression_ _murderous_ _._ "Hide and seek? Fine by me."

 _Stake in_ _the_ _doppelganger's stomach as he stomped back down the stairs,_ _dragging_ _the Hunter with him. Strapped him to the_ _table_ _, harshly holding his head down as he raised the cleaver._

"Which arm is it again? Left or right? ...Guess I'll just have to take both-"

 _Vervain water in his eyes, knife in his shoulder and_ _then_ _a glimpse of silver-)_

Novia screwed her eyes shut and tried to keep her emotions detached, but it was too late.

 _(_ _\- the_ _stake pierced his heart._

 _It was an agonizing sense of loss that_ _could not_ _compare to any feeling she had ever felt before, human_ _or_ _vampire_ _. It tore from_ _her_ _like a vicious beast, all sharp claws and even sharper teeth, a writhing mass of darkness that_ _detonated_ _inside her,_ _driving_ _her to her knees. She_ _hardly_ _noticed when the flames sprung up on his body, all_ _her_ _eyes could fix on was_ _chocolate_ _orbs, unseeingly staring at the ceiling,_ _not_ _a hint of playful_ _mischief_ _in_ _his_ _gaze_ _._

 _That was_ _when_ _she_ _knew he was gone.)_

Elijah ripped his arm out of her grip, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. He breathed heavily, wide-eyed surprise so clear and unguarded on his face, it distracted Novia from the devastating sensation of loss that washed over her like she was crying on that kitchen floor next to his body again. She averted her eyes from Elijah, her gaze fixing on the ground in front of her. For a second, she wasn't in a dusty abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, but back in the Gilbert house, clutching Kol's burnt corpse, insanely wishing that it was just an illusion and her best friend wasn't dead. 

She blinked, and it was gone. 

"Kol- The _Five_ -? Good Lord." 

Elijah blew out a breath, looking as if someone had just knocked his world on it's axis. "Kol- Kol _dies_?" 

Novia nodded, sure that if she spoke, her voice would crack with the emotion bursting inside her. 

"And The Five? Silas? A _Cure_?"

She gave him a look. 

"Why on _earth_ would you want to live through all that again?" 

"To save Kol," Novia said simply, raising an eyebrow at Elijah's broken look. 

He stared at her, expression softening into something she couldn't identify. He looked almost wistful as his gaze trailed the features of her face. She knew what he was seeing; her ocean-blue eyes framed by thick black lashes; her hair straight and shiny; her body covered but still flaunting her curves. 

"I wish someone loved me as much as you love my brother." 

Novia's brows furrowed. Love? She cared deeply for Kol, but she didn't know what love felt like. Was it the warmth that spread in her chest whenever Layarla had grinned in accomplishment? Or was it the tingly feeling that prickled all over her body when Kol would drag her up for a dance and smile with genuine affection, not the self-assured smirk he flashed so many others.

"I don't love Kol."

But Elijah only smiled, knowledge in his gaze even as he made a noncommittal noise of agreement. "Do you wish to discuss plans? Or do you need to get your affairs in order?"

"No. I'm alright to talk now." Novia said quietly, sparing a glance to the window. The sun was creating orange streaks in the sky. Nearly sunset, she noted. She had a place to stay, but of course it was no five-star suite overlooking the lively streets of New Orleans. 

And so, Novia braced herself and prepared herself for a tirade of all the whispers and rumours she'd collected over the years.

The sacrifice and Klaus' failed Hybrids; The Original Witch awakening; his siblings being undaggered; _him_ being daggered again; Esther's plot to link her children and make them mortal once more; The Five coming back; Jeremy Gilbert getting the Mark; Finn's death; Kol's death; Silas; Professor Shane and the Expression Triangle; Nova Scotia; the veil to the Other Side temporarily dropping; Hayley and the miracle baby; Marcel fancying himself 'King of the City'; The Harvest; The turf war between the witches, werewolves and vampires; Dahlia; Freya; The Sire Lines at war; Elijah's little club for all his sirelings; Lucien becoming a beast that could kill even an Original.

On and on it went, until the sun had completely set and only the waning light from the candles illuminated their faces. Elijah had gone past mere shock and into a sort of emotional numbness. Hearing that a suicidal, immortal witch would rise and that everything he knew was a lie tended to do that to a person, Novia supposed with a musing look.

"Well," he finally said, a perpetual bewildered expression on his face. "I suppose my petty revenge on Niklaus will have to wait."

"No," Novia remarked firmly.

"No?"

"You can't go to New Orleans until Nik knocks the werewolf girl up," she announced adamantly, "It's crucial the Harvest is started and the witches have time to rebel. I can't have you messing up the timeline, Elijah. Everything has _order_ \- Don't you see that me just _being here_ is drastically tipping the balance of nature? Time was not _meant_ to meddled with. I'll face harsh consequences for what I've broke, just as you will if you attempt to change a major event. You can't kill that clown - _Lucien_ \- You can't go in hunt of Dahlia. You can't even kill Jeremy Gilbert, so don't even _think_ about it."

"But-"

" _No_. You can't interfere, you idiot. I, however, can."

At Elijah's impatient look, Novia sighed, unable to resist her slight flair for the dramatics - a trait both her and Kol shared.

"I have enough contacts in the witch community to start pulling a few strings, subtly picking off a few vamps and recruiting a handful of wolves: taking Marcel's empire right from under his nose. By the time we're ready to go to New Orleans, you'll hardly meet any resistance when you seize the city."

At Elijah's half-amazed half-tired look, Novia let a smile curl her lips.

"You didn't really think you were the only one with a little Sire Line club, right? I've been siring witch-vampire hybrids since the twelfth century, so let's just say my creations would all die for me, loyalty that isn't stemmed from obligation like yours and Klaus'."

Elijah shook his head, letting out a breath, "Nothing surprises me anymore,"

"As it shouldn't. Now, you want to hear my plan?" 

He looked at her. 

Novia smiled. 

So she told him of her plan to appear as Elena Gilbert's long-lost twin sister - unable to deny herself the gleeful pleasure of infiltrating their ranks and fooling such cocksure infant immortals - and compel herself into their inner circle. A little compulsion on the Salvatore brothers, an illusion on the Bennett witch and a sob story for the locals - her job would be done. She would wait for Niklaus to show up in the one-pony town - probably in someone else's skin with his usual dramatics - and force him to give her Kol's body. She and Kol would skip off to New Orleans, dismantle Marcel's army and everything would be as it should've been. Silas would stay rotting underground, the Cure would never be found - maybe she'd secretly go to Nova Scotia and retrieve it for Rebekah's Christmas gift - and her best friend wouldn't die by the hand of some upstart Hunter. 

By the time she'd finished, Elijah seemed to have a permeant resigned expression, slouching in the seat in exhaustion. 

"I- will have to alter my plans quite a bit. You're sure Niklaus has scattered my siblings across the seabed?" 

"I can't be sure. Rebekah never wanted to speak of her time in the coffin, Finn hardly ever _looked_ at me, let alone _talked_ to me and Kol- well - I never spoke to him when Nik undaggered him." Novia admitted softly, not daring to look Elijah in the eye. It was cowardly for her to achieve her heart's desire but not daring to approach him. 

"I understand," Elijah responded, his gaze conveying warmth that convinced her his words were true. "And I fear my mind can't take another one of your surprises, Novia. I was planning to meet with Mrs Lockwood and Jenna Sommers tomorrow to integrate myself into their society; I presume that's when you'll meet Miss Elena Gilbert?"

Novia nodded steadily, revaluating her plans in her head and revising the plot holes. Her story had to be flawless just in case the doppelganger ingested vervain. It was her greatest embarrassment that her mind controlling abilities were rendered useless by a _garden plant_. She had to have a Plan B in case compulsion couldn't back her up. Novia would also need a good idea of their group dynamics, and for that she'd need to have a peak in someone's mental facilities. 

Only when her head dipped in fatigue did she register just how tired she was. Ripping a hole through time and pinning down an Original did that to you, she thought absently. 

"I'm going to-" _yawn_ "- crash at my place and get some sleep. Night Elijah." 

He nodded back, standing up, and a second later, there was a _whoosh_ of wind and Elijah was gone. Novia stood too, frowning petulantly down at her shaky legs, wondering just how exhausted she really was to have trembling limbs, before with a wave of her hand, the candles extinguished and the abandoned house was once again, abandoned. 

Novia's place of residence was a house just opposite the Gilbert house, ironically enough. Unfortunately, the previous owners felt a sudden desire to move to the Antarctica, leaving their home to their dearest friend, Novia Coden. The deed was in her name so by all definition, any vampire should be welcome in, but being a witch had advantages. A spell had a barrier on the door that wouldn't let any supernatural creature enter without permission. On that thought, she'd have to find out all the inhuman beings in Mystic Falls so she wouldn't be surprised about a werewolf invasion or a demon attack. 

She ran her hands through her hair as she slipped into pyjamas she found in a closet, dutifully adding to her mental To-do list: shopping. Glancing distastefully at the beige walls and fluffy sofa, Novia climbed the stairs and collapsed in the first bed she found, her bag of possessions spilling next to her. Her body slumped, but before she fell asleep, her hand closed around the necklace Kol gave her. She curled into a ball, chest rising and falling slowly, and drifted off with the necklace close to her heart.

Tomorrow would bring challenges that she would overcome. Just as Rebekah used to say, Kill a demon today, face the devil tomorrow. _'_


End file.
